


Listen to the Beats of My Soul

by Waltzfor-Zizi (azro_zee)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azro_zee/pseuds/Waltzfor-Zizi
Summary: SoMa one-shots.Current: Riding a packed train in a rush hour apparently has its perks.
Relationships: Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans
Comments: 15
Kudos: 82





	Listen to the Beats of My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> It's a one shot I posted on tumblr some months ago. Figured I should make a dumping ground here too <3

[Soul]

* * *

He's going to kill Wes.

That bastard of a brother had kidnapped his _baby_ , also known as the coolest ride known to mankind, for a date.

He doesn't care if it was Wes and Liz's long-awaited reunion after Wes's world-tour or what, taking his baby without his explicit permission had granted Wes the highest seat of Soul's stink list. Unwise move from Wes's side, to think he could do as he pleased while Soul has a terrifying ally named Patty Thompson.

Thousands of revenge ideas flood inside his brain as he grumbles about his current predicament.

Waking up to see his baby gone, the only choice Soul had to go to school in time was to take the subway. He couldn't afford to be late, for the first term is biology, and one does not simply arrive late to Professor Stein's class.

The problem is, of course, rush hour, and rush hour means being sandwiched between dozens of _Homo Sapiens_ and the train doors.

He'd endure it no problem if the last person to rush into the train—and practically shoved themselves into his reflexive embrace—hadn't been one Maka Albarn.

Boy, he can literally feel the definition of awkward.

It's embarrassing to have a girl standing so close in his personal space, but this particular girl makes everything worse. The fact that they were polar opposites made all conversations they'd ever had to end in arguments.

Maka Albarn is this tiny little thing—in pigtails, what even—who's widely known as their school's snotty teacher's pet, with wide and fierce green eyes and a childish face that make people wonder if she's an elementary student getting lost in their academy's high school building. She's a walking definition of precise, professional, and punctual. It's a little surprising to see the honor student out of breath with disheveled pigtails, cramped inside a packed train fifteen minutes before the bell rings.

So now, while Wes probably has Liz's boobs pressed tantalizingly onto his back, Soul has Maka Albarn pressed uncomfortably onto his chest.

What a great way to start the day.

The train jerks abruptly, sending him stumbling forward. He catches himself right before he crushes Albarn, and, thankfully, manages to not accidentally grope her breast in the process.

Crap, there's nothing to hang on.

Well, actually, there's one way to keep himself steady.

"Uh—sorry, can I just—uh…?" he stammers awkwardly, unsure of how to say his idea without sounding like a creep.

Albarn lifts her face. He gulps. Seeing her eyes from up close makes his heart do a funny little jump. They're so green.

"Sorry, can I—uh, put my arm above you?"

She tilts her head. "Uh, what?"

"To steady myself," he gives what he hopes a friendly grin instead of challenging smirks he used to throw at her. It won't be wise to unintentionally aggravate her while she has her fists so close to his stomach. "I mean, so I won't accidentally crush you?"

"Wha—oh, uh, yeah. Sure!" she squeaks a bit.

So he does, awkwardly propping his right arm onto the train doors while carefully leaving a slight gap between them. Everything would be alright if a thought hasn't crossed his mind:

He's practically _kabedonning_ her.

He totally looks like a protective boyfriend fiercely guarding his girl.

The thought sends a blast of crimson to the tip of his ears. Albarn must have noticed too, because she shifts her bag and hugs it in front of her chest, using it to hide her own blush.

Oh, shit. She's cute. And so tiny.

Soul throws his gaze outside the window.

Maybe he's not going to kill Wes.

* * *

_Click!_

A blue-haired boy closes his phone camera off, ecstatic to have a new trump card for future blackmailing.

* * *

* * *

[Maka]

* * *

She's going to kill Papa.

That stupid excuse of a father had gotten home high as the stratosphere last night and had the _brilliant_ idea of cooking breakfast in bed to impress his daughter.

It would be endearing if he's not an accident-prone drunk and had been banned from their kitchen in the first place. So this morning, Maka woke up to a beaming Papa, with a plate of scrambled eggs in his hands (she's still wondering how he managed to achieve that), and a kitchen full of literal destruction.

She'd been so exhausted because of Mrs. Yumi's calculus assignments and had woken up an hour late. She absolutely had no time to deal with Papa's shit.

But the cursed perfectionist in her just couldn't leave the mess for a minute longer, and before she knew it, she'd already put on her cleaning gears. That entire debacle had left her with just ten minutes to get ready for school.

She really won't admit that the scrambled eggs her Papa made had saved her from the inevitable foul mood she would suffer if she skips her breakfast. And she really won't admit that Papa's gesture to cook for her in his drunk state had endeared her.

Absolutely no. Because what he did was still fucking stupid and had ruined her entire morning. Not to mention that he definitely can't drive her to school with hangover and there's only about twenty minutes until the school starts, leaving her with no option but to take the subway.

Normally, she loves taking the subway, because she always leaves for school at least one hour early for morning practice at the track field, preventing her from being cramped inside packed trains at rush hour.

Alas, there was no chance to avoid it this time.

She'd endure it no problem, if the last person to get on the train before her—and practically cushioned her when she stumbled over the automatic doors—hadn't been one Soul Evans.

Oh dear, she could taste the definition of awkward.

She has absolutely never let any boy get that close in her personal space, ever, let alone this particular boy. He just has the knack to get under her skin. It doesn't help that the only exchanges they've ever had were sarcastic insults and sharp arguments because of their clashing personalities.

Soul Evans is this giant delinquent—with a nasty sense of fashion, what a punk—who's widely known as the laziest student in school history, with silvery white hair, red eyes, and sharp teeth that makes people wonder if he's a cosplayer getting lost in a school building. It's a little surprising to see him riding the packed train instead of taking the loud monstrosity he calls a bike.

So now, when Papa's snuggling his face contentedly to a pillow, Maka has to snuggle her face uncomfortably to Soul Evans's chest.

This day is going to suck.

The train jerks abruptly, making all the passengers, including Evans, to stumble. She's saved from being crushed by Evans's towering height, however, because he manages to catch himself and straighten back in a swift but awkward movement.

To be honest, Maka is a little curious to see his current demeanor. He's not making any remarks nor putting on his aggravating grins. He just stands there, awkwardly, as they keep stealing glances at each other. If she doesn't know any better, she would say that he's _nervous_.

"Uh—sorry, can I just—uh…?" his deep voice stammers into her ears.

Maka lifts her face to meet his red eyes. Oh. She has never bothered to look him in the eye, but now when she does, her heart's rhythm quickens. Does she have heart palpitations or what?

"Sorry, can I—uh, put my arm above you?"

Perplexed, she tilts her head, eyes widening. "Uh, what?"

"To steady myself. I mean, so I won't accidentally crush you?" he grins softly, a truly different one from the smirks he used to throw at her.

Oh, no. He has dimples.

"Wha—oh, uh, yeah. Sure!" Maka hastily says, her tone a pitch higher than normal.

God. She would know what to do when she's facing his usual irritating self, but she absolutely has no idea when facing this version of Soul Evans.

Maka holds her breath when Evans steps closer and props his arm above her. She's managing to not freak out so far, but her brain chooses to produce a new thought: he's practically _kabedonning_ her.

This is totally the same position depicted in many of Tsubaki's romance mangas. Maka shifts her bag to hide her eyes away from his broad chest.

Ugh. Why does he have to be so tall?

She refuses to admit that her entire face is a deep shade of crimson.

She's definitely going to kill Papa.

* * *

_Crack!_

Later that day, the pen in Maka's hand cracks when she opens her smartphone and see the attached image in Star's e-mail.


End file.
